Medicine
by slytherclaw97
Summary: 6th year, post-sectumsempra. There is no cure to Draco's despair or predicament...Or is there? Who could become his personal medicine? Slightly based off Medicine by Daughter. Minor cursing, MUCH teen angst.


A/N- Long time, no see, world of fanfiction! I've had a long and draining year, but I finally found the time (well not really, I just stole the time from my sleeping hours) and inspiration to write something. This little one-shot is the result of me listening to Medicine by Daughter all day. This kinda had the emotion behind the song in it. I've even made a direct reference to it in the dialogue!  
Anywho, this takes place toward the end of 6th year, after the whole "sectumsempra" incident. Draco has some incurable despair due to his task and his current plan of action is not proving to be good medicine for his despair. But what...or who...could be his new medicine?

The darkened corridors of the dungeons found Draco Malfoy doing some directionless midnight wandering. Time was running out and Draco found the last bit of serenity slipping away from him. There was no where to hide from his task or what he would become. Draco couldn't go back to that bathroom. Not after...the incident. Regardless of how much he needed comfort and a confidante, seeking out Myrtle wouldn't help him forget the other day's events. Sure, it was Potter who casted the final (and almost lethal) blow, but the shocked expression on Scarhead's face showed Malfoy that the boy was unaware of what it did. Draco also knew that he himself drew the first wand and was prepared to hit the other caster with an unforgivable...damn it!  
He was horrified and disgusted with himself. After crying to Myrtle about not being able to complete his task, Draco hypocritically found himself forming the cruciatus curse on the tip of his tongue. Even if it was only Potter, no one deserved to be tortured in such a way...except maybe himself. These were his feelings when he was hit by that 'sectumsempra' curse. But what did he get, after all? A few fading scars on his pale chest. Draco knew the effects of a crucio well enough though. If he had hit Potter...if he ever had to hit anyone...he grew queasy at the thought of torturing someone to insanity or death.  
_ I suppose I should get used to it now that I've been forced into the Dark Lord's ranks,_ he thought bitterly, _Torturing people will probably be my one purpose, and if I refuse..._ Draco started shuddering. He wasn't meant for this life, wasn't made to carry on his father's "legacy". Yet here he was, being bred into a monster.  
He emerged from the dungeons like a diver with an empty oxygen tank. The moonlight from the now-windowed halls cast a trembling, unsure shadow onto the wall. Draco absorbed the significance of this figure. This was who he had become. He was no longer the snide, prideful young man with a powerful daddy to back him up. He was a confused child, engulfed by a world of darkness and deadly commitments that threatened to strangle him. His confidence was gone, his head was no longer held high, and he was just trying to make it through the day without growing sick at the sight of Weasley or breaking down at a sideways glance from Bell. Paranoia was no longer just a lingering thought in the back of his mind, but a fog that had taken over everything.  
This was probably why he jumped when he sensed another presence in the corridor he just turned down. Draco had his wand held in his shaking hand before he could tear the fearful, guarded look off his face in exchange for a look of indifference. Scanning the environment with a cool (well, cool on the surface) gaze, he found his fellow late-night wanderer.  
"Granger." He said with a slight quiver, too overwhelmed to paint a halfhearted sneer on his face. "You aren't patrolling tonight."  
The girl looked suspicious of his slightly civil behavior. He would be as well if he were in her position. "You aren't supposed to be out either," she replied. However wary, Granger looked almost as though she was relieved to have found him, as though she was to say more to him. She was also searching his expression, he noted, probably looking for a sign as to why he had jumped upon entering the corridor. A sudden look of resolve rested upon her features. Before he could prepare himself for whatever she had worked up, she began speaking in a rushed, logical way.  
"I wanted to apologize for Harry and what he did. He found the spell, along with others, in that old potions book of his. I've been telling him to get rid of it for ages now and I'm positive that if I just got on him a little more for it I could have gotten it confiscated before anything happened. It's relieving to see no everlasting effect to his actions, regardless of how stupid it was of him to perform such actions in the first place..."  
Draco was too overwhelmed at the beginning of this conversation, but now he was rooted at the spot, wondering why on earth Hermione Granger, little miss perfect, was apologizing to him, a serial offender towards her and her friends. If this wasn't enough, the bookworm continued. She was seemingly rambling to herself now.  
"Can't believe he went that far...stupid book...Harry and his crazy instincts and suspicions...still looking at that darn map, even after the whole incident, the nerve! it's as though he barely feels guilty...no, instead he needs to keep tabs on you 24/7 because he has the insane notion that you're actually a Death Eater...talks of the Room of Requirement..."  
The air in the room stopped moving for Draco. His paranoia _did_ have reason; Potter was onto him and probably had been all year. He'd be found out, blamed for crimes he didn't want to carry out, and he would be sentenced away before he could reconstruct his false hope for life. He started shuddering once again and breathing heavily. Granger finally noticed his response to her mini-tyrade.  
"Malfoy. Malfoy! What's wrong?"  
Chest heaving, Draco knew he had to make a choice. He was bound to only last another moment or so before breaking down. Would it be in front of the opposite of what his family stood for, or somewhere foreboding and lonely along an escape route? _Well, breaking down in front of a dead mudblood isn't that different than this would be. My reputation is screwed enough as it is being a Malfoy, so to hell with it.  
_ And with that, Draco let every single wall come down. He burst out into heavy sobs, leaned against the corridor's wall and slid to the bottom, dropping to the floor unceremoniously. Looking up through unclear eyes, Draco saw Granger sporting a look fit more on Weasley; she was eyeing him dazedly as though she had no idea what to do. Draco surprisingly savored these moments because he admittedly knew that soon enough her mind would miraculously put the pieces together and he'd be sent off to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive and the only true hope to vanquish his tormentor. Dumbledore, the man whose death he was being forced to plot. This brought around another onslaught of tears.  
Draco had laid his head face-down on his knees so he grew unaware of Granger until she carefully slid down next to him. What he normally would have regarded as uncomfortably close (especially towards someone of _her _blood), was actually welcomed. He had not felt the comforting warmth that radiates off another person in so very long. Finally, he was able to take in a deep, shaking breath. Granger's figure shifted and Draco turned his head to look at her. Swollen, tear-rimmed grey eyes met a worried, caring brown. She was pleading with her eyes, asking to know what caused Draco such agony.  
After taking another shuddering breath, Draco Malfoy let everything go and told Hermione Granger of every weight upon him.  
"As you can imagine, the Dark Lord wasn't very...pleased at my father's capture. However, he offered me a chance to take my father's place. All I had to do was complete one task and I would be rewarded far more greatly than my father was. But I know the truth. He didn't want me to succeed. His aim was for me to fail so he could punish my family in every way imaginable." By this point Draco was reduced to coughing out tiny fragments of his sentences, once again unable to control his emotions, and Granger looked about ready to cry as well. "Of course, if I didn't accept, my family would be branded as traitors to the Dark Lord and tortured instantly."  
Granger's sharp intake of air broke him from his explanation. He knew that she realized his only hope was to take the Dark Lord's offer. A choked, bitter, humorless, laugh escaped from him.  
"You don't even know the worst of it yet. Of course, I had no choice but to accept his gracious offer. It was the hardest and most painful thing I had ever done. After all, what minion can take on such an important task from their master without being properly initiated?"  
Granger had a quiet scream marring her face (which was now streaked with tears) and was failing to indiscreetly eye his left forearm. He abrubtly got up and began to pace before turning back to her. Tears openly fell from his eyes _again_ as he shoved up his sleeve to reveal a hideous, deep black dark mark marring his skin.  
"This is what I've been foreced to become! I don't want it, any of it! I wish my father wasn't an imbecilic blood-purist with a completely mad and dangerous leader! I wish I didn't have to carry out this plan, but it's too late! There's NO hope left for me! Even if I somehow managed to get out of this task, I'm still scarred. I'll always be my father's son, the Death Eater. And if I _do_ complete it, I'll be a murderer."  
A gasp escaped from his confidante's mouth. Since it wasn't a silent scream this time, Draco guessed she had a bit of an idea as to where that one was going. But did she really?  
"Of course, I doubt I'll be able to since the man I'm supposed to kill is...is...Albus Dumbledore."  
The hopelessly devastated look on Granger's face caused his tears to become impossibly heavier. He truly was a lost cause, destined to be a murderous disaster.  
"I CAN'T do it! Oh hell, I CAN'T do it! But even so, I'm a monster. I'm a monster and the opposite of everything you stand for, being all good...and _pure_. My father taught me that you, _you_ were the dirtied one. One hell of a scam that was! His hands are dirtier than your blood could ever possibly be! And that dirt is on me as well since I am the sole heir to the Malfoy name. But you know what? I DON'T WANT IT! I HATE BEING MY FATHER!"  
In Draco's state of hysterics, Granger had gotten off the ground as well. She placed a warm, guiding hand on his shoulder.  
"Draco."  
It was the first time she used his name."  
"You are _not_ your father's son. You've just proved that to me. I see so much pain and confusion inside of you and I'm willing to help you get through this. But please, Dumbledore can figure everything out if you just go to him-"  
"And tell him what, that I need him to get me out of his murder plot?! So that I can be hidden for the duration of the war only to suffer the consequences of this commitment of mine for the rest of my life?! There is NO happy ending for me, that was signed off to some other guy the second I took that mark. My fate is not in my hands; the only way I know I'll be fully safe for the time being is if I continue with my task. I _am_ second in the class, you know. I've thought through every scenario my brain could come up with. Nothing has a good final outcome."  
"You have a good mind, Malfoy. You have a beautiful brain, but it's disintegrated. Despair has obviously clouded your mind from thinking up any good ending. If you don't want to, don't go to Dumbledore. But let me stay in. Learn to trust me. I can help you."  
"Why do you want to help me? I'm the son of a Death Eater, fuck, I _am_ a Death Eater and-"  
"And I've heard this already, straight from your mouth, no more than two minutes ago. You are not defined by your father's actions or even your own past actions. You are defined by what you are feeling now: regret, sadness, fear... After Harry started keeping tabs on you, I started picking up little things as well. Not things that Harry was really looking for, but rather, a tiredness in your usually disdainful gaze, a lack of power in your step, a worried shadow across your face...and I started to care. I knew I could never hope to find out what was plaguing you, but in the back of my mind was the hope that I'd be able to cure you of it...of everything."  
Draco was inches away from Granger's face, taking in the unbelievable amount of emotion within the depths of her eyes.  
"Please, Draco."  
"...Hermione."  
Her arms wrapped around his neck while he engulfed her petite frame in his slender build. Her soft, yet commanding lips were on his and he picked up a light floral scent wafting from that atrocious hair. Bringing his hands up to play with the bushy mane, Draco decided it was atrociously beautiful. Behind his closed eyelids, Draco saw something like light out in the distance. It was nearly unfamiliar, but he finally characterized it as hope.  
They broke apart, letting the silence seep in though their pores as they stared into each other's eyes. So many new emotions surfaced in Draco, so many things he had nearly forgotten about. He let them all play out for the girl standing in front of him.  
"Draco, let me be your cure."  
She walked away, leaving Draco in an empty corridor with both his mind and heart racing. He was unsure of what to make of this new development. One thing he was positive of, however, was that this was the first time he had seen hope since his father's capture. No matter how many times he tried to create the feeling himself, no matter how many plans he made to cure his anguish, nothing worked. And now, one life-changing chance meeting had restored some of what he had lost so long ago. Draco decided then and there that maybe whatever this was would somehow work better than anything he was trying.  
Hermione Granger was his new medicine.


End file.
